


I'll Stay Right Here Beside You

by Callaeidae3



Series: Voltron Oneshots [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Keith (Voltron), Aromantic Keith (Voltron), Asexual Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Racism, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callaeidae3/pseuds/Callaeidae3
Summary: Post S2E8, Keith's struggling to sleep and Shiro knows when Keith needs a hug.





	I'll Stay Right Here Beside You

Having fought for hours on end, opponent after opponent and then his own mind, Keith expects sleep to come easy. He’s utterly exhausted, so by rights it should – only it doesn’t.

When he closes his eyes, it’s only to have his heartbeat accelerate within seconds. It’s like his body’s still anticipating having to fight, and so, out of desperation to make sure he survives getting the life beaten out of him, sends fresh waves of adrenaline into his bloodstream. With it are images of slashing swords and fists flying towards him.

Keith sighs. He opens his eyes again, stares at the ceiling above his bed for a long while and then rolls over onto his left side. His muscles protest. The stitched-up wound beneath all the bandaging on his shoulder throbs. His body aches with over-exertion and bruising.

It’s no less comfortable than lying on his back, and lying on his right side is out of the question unless he wants his shoulder aching much more terribly than it currently is.

Swallowing hard, Keith fights back tears of exhaustion. _I just want sleep._

There’s a knock on the door. Keith’s too tired to think to distinguish that knock as Shiro’s, so when the door opens without any asking and without his consent, he’s ready to lash out at whoever decided to come in.

“It’s just me,” Shiro says softly, and the anger dies in Keith’s throat. “Just came to see how you’re doing.”

Keith doesn’t turn to face him. “’m fine.”

“That’s what you said before you passed out in the hangar just after we got back.”

It’s not something Keith likes to be reminded of, but Shiro’s got a point. There’s no use arguing he’s fine when it’s very obvious, even to himself, that he’s not.

Shiro makes his way over to the bed, his movements slow and easy. He doesn’t turn on the lights for Keith’s sake, so when the door closes, the only light to see by is the faint glow of the floor that the Castleship produces on its night cycle.

It’s decent enough light to be able to make out Keith’s skin tone.

“You’re still pale on it, buddy,” Shiro murmurs.

Keith narrows his eyes at the wall. “Don’t call me that.”

“…this isn’t just the tiredness talking, is it?”

_Curse Shiro and his stupid insightfulness._

“Keith?”

“There’s a number of other things you ought to be calling me now.”

Shiro hums. “Yeah? And what would that be besides ‘Keith’?”

 _Galra. Untrustworthy. Liar. Deceiver._ Funny enough, all names run through Keith’s head as Allura’s voice.

“Is what Allura said getting to you?”

Keith curls his fingers tightly into the sheets. “Why wouldn’t it?”

Shiro’s quiet for a moment, then he exhales slowly. “She could’ve at least saved the brunt of her reaction for the space mice only, huh?”

Keith clenches his jaw and doesn’t answer. It hurts the side of his face where he got punched in the cheek, but he ignores it. Better the physical pain of bruising than the words and tone and expression Allura dealt him that’ll be cutting into his conscious for a number of days to come.

“Can I sit?” Shiro asks.

Keith answers with a shrug. He hisses at the pain that flares in his shoulder wound. He’s expecting Shiro to start talking, maybe give a lecture about not letting the other’s opinions and reactions of his newly found out (or in Keith’s sake, confirmed) heritage. Maybe he’ll confess that he’s uncomfortable being around Keith at the moment, what with his PTSD possibly providing him with anxiety at the news of Keith being part Galra.

It comes as a surprise – a welcome and much need shock – when Shiro’s human hand comes to rest lightly on his shoulder. A gentle touch, careful not to startle and careful not to aggravate the wound, but with the same weight and warmth to it that gives it its reassuring message.

“Been a long day, hasn’t it?” Shiro murmurs. “Two days, really.”

Keith’s throat constricts. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry._

“We’re going to start the talks of battle strategy and plans of attack against Zarkon tomorrow, after everyone’s had some rest. If you’re not feeling up to coming up to the bridge, that’s okay. It’s likely the planning will take some time, and a lot of it will just be exchange of intel between us and the Blade of Marmora to begin with. In other words, take as much time as you need, okay? You know I’m not just talking about regaining your physical strength, either.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

At that, Keith blinks in surprise and makes the effort to raise his head and turn his face to look at Shiro. It’s hard to make out much of his expression, but his silhouette speaks calm and concern.

“It’s okay if you’d rather be alone,” Shiro says quickly. “I was just thinking…when you stayed by the couch with me w-when I came back to Earth. I don’t know if I ever got around to telling you, but it meant a lot. For months – I don’t remember it very well, but – I’d always wake up in a lab or in cell after being put under, and so that’s what I was expecting when I woke up. I probably would’ve freaked out really badly if you hadn’t been there, to ground me as such.

“I guess what I’m saying is…if it helps, I’m happy to stay here with you.”

Keith considers, equally wanting to be alone and not. Given the choice of being alone with his mind like he was before and having someone he trusts beside him to anchor him to reality – to ground him, as he’s heard Shiro say in reference to having an anchor to pull him out of flashbacks – then he knows which option is the better.

He looks away, ashamed to realise how much he wants – needs – the comfort. “Please stay,” he whispers.

Back at the Garrison, before Shiro had departed on the mission to Kerberos, Keith had had a nightmare during which the spacecraft flew straight into a meteor and exploded. The way Keith had retold the dream could’ve been a joke if not for the fact that it had been past midnight and Keith had snuck into Shiro’s apartment, eyes wild with fear, just to make sure Shiro was still there and still alive.

Shiro had let Keith stay, hugging him until the younger fell asleep and Shiro too soon after.

They do that again. Shiro withdraws his hand from Keith’s shoulder and Keith misses the warmth of it immediately, but then Shiro slips his shoes and vest off and settles back down, this time taking the edge of the sole blanket Keith sleeps under and lying down behind him. The blanket resettles and Shiro pulls Keith into a loose hug.

The tension in Keith’s body eases. Warmth. Reassurance. Protectiveness. Comfort. Calm. He listens to Shiro’s breathing and focuses on the reassuring warmth surrounding him. Somehow it keeps the images of fighting and mindscape dreams at bay, and without that, the soreness of cuts and bruises and aching bones dulls as well.

 “Thank you,” he intends to mumble, but Keith’s not sure whether or not he actually says it.

It’s only a matter of minutes before he starts drifting. He’s fallen asleep before he’s aware of it, and Shiro, now able to rest knowing that Keith’s okay (relatively speaking), falls asleep soon after.

 

 


End file.
